


The Meadowlark

by silly_mortal



Category: The Baker's Wife - Stephen Schwartz
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Love, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silly_mortal/pseuds/silly_mortal
Summary: Genevieve tells her mother that she's married the baker.
Relationships: Baker's Wife/Baker (The Baker's Wife), Genevieve/Aimable, Genevieve/Other
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't imagine anyone will ever see this, because who's going to be on here looking for The Baker's Wife? Whenever you hear anyone mention The Baker's Wife, they're usually talking about Into the Woods. Anyhoo, this is not that Baker's Wife. This is about Genevieve from The Baker's Wife musical. I've never actually heard anyone say they like it, but I do. It had potential and they should have figured out those characters, before they sent it out on the road.
> 
> In any case, my Genevieve is based on the one played by Patti LuPone and my Aimable is Paul Sorvino's, because Topol was a dickhead and so was his Aimable. In the Topol version, it's no wonder Genevieve took off - he treated her like a slow child. At least Sorvino's Baker seemed to actually love her. But I digress....
> 
> Genevieve is pronounced like the French version (Zhahn-vee-ev), which is how it's pronounced in all of the Patti recordings I have heard. I know she says it with a soft G sometimes, when she introduces Meadowlark, but that's not how it's said in the play.

“Mama! Welcome home!”

Geneviève threw her arms around her mother and kissed her cheek.

“Darling! I didn’t know you were coming so early – come in!”

Marie Leclerc ushered her daughter into the small flat, before giving her a proper hug.

“It’s been so long! Let me look at you...”

She cupped her daughter’s pretty face in her hands and stared into her big brown eyes, which were so much like her own.

“You look thin, dove. Are you ok?”

“Of course, I am,” Geneviève said, a playful lilt in her voice. “And I like to be thin. It makes my dresses fit better.”

“Too thin isn’t good, though, and you look like you’re not far away from that… Are you having problems with your love life?”

“Not at all, Mama. Everything is fine,” she smiled, trying not to look nervous.

“Fine, huh? Ok, then… I’ll get us some coffee and we can catch up, shall we?”

Geneviève nodded, in agreement.

Once her mother disappeared into the kitchen, she removed her heavy coat and looked around the living room. It was nice to be here, in the place she grew up in. It always felt like home, the way nowhere else did. She could imagine her father sitting out on the balcony, smoking his pipe, calling to her to come and tell him about her day at school.

“ _Genie, come here…_ ” she heard him call, in her head. “ _Zshahhh-neee..._ ”

Geneviève would race to her father, climbing up onto his lap, to tell him all about the events of her day. 

She missed her father’s voice, calling her by her nickname. Her mother also called her by the name but, though she loved her mother dearly, hearing it wasn’t the same as when it had fallen from her beloved Papa’s lips.

He had been gone ten years now and there was still a moment every single day that she forgot that the two of them no longer walked the same planet. Sometimes it was early in the morning, just as she was beginning to wake, at the time when everything seemed unreal and dreamlike. But sometimes, most often in fact, it was during her waking hours, when she needed advice or a shoulder to cry on. She would plan on going to see her father in order to pour her heart out to him, even, at times, going as far as to put on her coat, before she remembered…. It always hit her like a punch in the stomach.

Aimable reminded Geneviève of her father. He had the same kind, genial nature. He was devoted to her, always doing sweet things to show her how much he loved her and never being cross with her, even when she probably deserved it. His love and kindness knew no limits. He was very-

“Here, Genie...”

Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned to see her mother handing a steaming cup of coffee.

“Thank you, Mama.”

Geneviève took a seat in one of the chairs and smiled at her.

“Now… How is my girl? I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in three months!”

“Oh, fine. The same as always,” the young woman smiled. “Tell me about your trip. How are auntie and the cousins?”

Geneviève smiled and nodded, pretending to listen as her mother regaled her with tales of the three month trip she had spent in the north of the country, visiting her sister. While she was actually interested in her mother’s trip, she found it difficult to concentrate. She had some news to share with her mother, the possible reaction about which was causing Geneviève a great deal of stress. While she hoped her mother would just accept the news, she had the feeling Marie would actually-

“What’s the matter with you, Genie? Why do you seem so nervous?”

Geneviève shifted, uncomfortably. She knew from experience that she could never hide anything from her mother for long.

“I have something to tell you,” she murmured.

“You’re _pregnant_ … by that man who is married. warned you about this, Genie-”

“I’m _not_ pregnant.”

“Oh, thank God… What then?”

“I got married while you were gone.”

Marie stared at her daughter, in shock.

“Married? To _whom_?”

“Aimable.”

“The baker?”

“Yes.”

“Genie… He’s almost as old as your father would have been.”

“I know, Mama.”

“He’s older than _I_ am.”

“By just _one_ year.”

“Geneviève… Why would you do that?”

Geneviève lifted her long lashes, to look at her mother.

“He loves me.”

“Do _you_ love _him_?”

“Of course.”

She had hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but long enough for her mother to notice it.

“And you couldn’t wait for me to return? You didn’t think your mother would want to see her _only_ child’s wedding?”

“We didn’t have a wedding, it was all very sudden. He asked me and I said yes, so we went to the mairie and got married. That’s all.”

Her mother nodded, while scrutinizing her daughter’s face.

“The married man went back to his wife, didn’t he?”

Geneviève didn’t answer.

“Oh Genie… You can’t _do_ that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with people’s emotions.”

“I’m not playing with Aimable, Mama.”

“Marrying a man you don’t love is doing just that.”

“I _do_ love him! He is my best friend and the nicest person I have ever met.”

“You _love_ him?”

“Yes! I care _very_ much for him.”

“Geneviève… If you tell me, right now, that you love Aimable Castagnet the same way you loved that married man you have been carrying on with, I will tell you I am wrong and will congratulate you this instant.”

Marie leaned forward in her chair, holding her daughter’s gaze. Geneviève lowered her eyes, to stare at her lap.

“They’re two completely different people. There is no way to compare them.”

“Oh Genie...”

Marie stood up and walked over to her daughter. She ran a comforting hand over the girl’s red curls, before bending to place a kiss on top of her head. She stood there a moment, holding her daughter, before returning to her seat.

“Have you slept with him yet?” she finally asked.

“Mama!” the girl looked at her, shocked.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m your mother and you’re a married woman now. You can stop pretending that you’re a virgin, the way you _have been_ doing the past few years.”

Geneviève flushed.

“He’s my husband. Of course I have.”

“And?”

“And _what_? I’m not going to give you any details, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

Marie shook her head, slightly.

“Is there... _passion_ between the two of you?” 

Geneviève was quiet for a long moment, as she searched her mind for the proper response.

“He’s very… _tender_.”

“Tender does not passion make, Geneviève.”

The young woman met her mother’s stare, but did not say anything.

“Did you sleep with him _before_ you married him?”

“Mama, _please_!”

“These are legitimate questions! I would have asked you all of this before you married him, like any mother would, if I had even _considered_ that something like this would enter your head! These are the kind of things to consider when making a lifetime commitment to someone.”

“No, I didn’t,” she conceded. “He wanted to wait until we were married.”

“So, he’s a gentleman?”

“Very much so.”

Marie sighed and looked down.

“You don’t belong with him, dove.”

“Why not? He loves me!”

“Of _course_ he does, Geneviève! He’s a middle-aged man who’s found a beautiful girl, young enough to be his daughter, to warm his bed! What man doesn’t want that? I’m positive that he’s completely enchanted by you… but _you_ are not the right woman for _him_.”

“How can you say that to me?” she asked, mournfully. “I am not the terrible girl you suddenly seem to think I am.”

Marie reached for her daughter’s hand.

“My sweet girl… You have been the light of my life since the moment I gave birth to you. You are beautiful and charming and full of passion… but you can be flighty and extremely selfish. You _know_ this about yourself.”

Geneviève looked at her mother, sullenly.

“You are impulsive and you get your head turned easily. When you were a little girl, you’d have a brand new toy in your hand and, before even playing with it, you’d want the next. When you got a little older, it was dresses that did it. Then it was boys. And you never wanted the boys who wanted you. It was always the boys who liked another girl which were the ones who turned your head. The poor boys who liked you _and only you_ had to suffer, while you chased whatever other boy you found interesting at the time. You always want what you can’t have.

“You marrying a man you are not deeply in love with, one you don’t have real passion for, is a huge mistake. Passion in a marriage fades eventually, yes, but you need a real basis and you are not the type of person who can build one with a man who bores you. You love excitement and are not the kind of woman who will stay with a man who doesn’t _excite_ you. A man you don’t love with your _whole_ heart. Other women might be able to stay true to such a man, but not you, Geneviève. And, if you do, that will also be a mistake… How long have you been married?”

“Almost four weeks,” Geneviève murmured.

Marie nodded.

“My advice to you is that you give this situation some thought, but decide quickly. It would be far less cruel to leave now, before he has gotten too used to you, than to do it later.”

“I am _not_ leaving him, Mama.”

Marie sighed.

“Do you remember the story I used to read to you, when you were little?” she asked. “The one about the meadowlark?”

The young woman nodded.

“That’s you, my little songbird. I’ve always called you my dove but, truly, you are the meadowlark... The one from that story. You’re beautiful and you attract attention wherever you go, you always have. Now, you might be able to stay true to this man you’ve married for awhile, years even, but mark my words… One day, someone else is going to turn your head, is going to light that fire in you that you’ve felt before, but not one you’ve felt for your own husband. When that day comes, you’ll be faced with a dilemma, to stay with the person who loves _you_ or to go with the one _you_ love. If you go, you will break the heart of this man who loves you, as well as any children you might have by then, and, if you stay, you will _die_ , Geneviève. Maybe not physically, but you will emotionally.”

The room was thick with silence. Neither of them spoke for a very long time.

Geneviève let her mind wander to the events of the past couple of months, events she wouldn’t dare tell her mother about... How her married lover paraded his pregnant wife around the cafe the day after Geneviève had informed him that _she_ was pregnant with his child. How he had denied it was his, as though she were some loose woman who slept with every man who took an interest in her. How Aimable had found her in her tiny rented room, burning with fever after a botched abortion. How he had taken her to the hospital and, when she was released, moved her into his apartment, so that he could take care of her. How he sat with her night and day for _weeks_ , nursing her back to health, while sleeping on that tiny couch of his, until she insisted that he share the bed with her. How he held her and comforted her during the night when she broke down in tears, but never once made an inappropriate advance toward her. How constantly reassured her that she was not at all a bad person for what she had done and that, actually, he found her to be the most wonderful person in the world. How, for Christmas, he had gifted her the most beautiful drawing that he had done of her and, while staring at that sketch, she realized how what an extraordinary person he was, to love a person like her… one who had made so many mistakes. How, in an attempt to show him how grateful she was for all he had done for her, she removed her dress and attempted to seduce him, but that Aimable, who was always a gentleman, had insisted that he wanted them to be married before they made love… and so they went down to the mairie and were married within 2 hours.

Truth be told, her mother was right. She did not have the same passion for Aimable that she did with the man who was her lover before – or even with the two the preceded _him_. Francois, her first lover, was a young boy who had first shown her the ways of love. Henri was next, the cabaret dancer who was a few years older than Francois and had stolen her away from him. He had taught her even more than Francois did, but it was Paul who had truly turned her into a woman. He was even older than Henri and married, which made him seem far more sophisticated than the then 20-year-old Geneviève. She fell immediately and deeply in love with him.

Paul would come and stand in the window at the cafe and, within 5 minutes of spotting him, Geneviève was taking her coffee break against the wall of her rented room across the street, with her skirt bunched around her waist and Paul pumping in and out of her. She was obsessed with him and couldn’t get enough of him, both physically and emotionally.

Aimable was completely different than Paul. He was gentle and tender and spent every moment he could letting her know how beautiful he found her to be and how much he loved her… but he didn’t cause her to dampen her knickers at the sight of him or to leave fingernail marks on his back. She did manage to climax with him once, but it was _only the once_ … and that had only happened because she had talked him into having a glass of wine and the result was him losing his inhibitions, as well as control of his overly polite manners. The next morning, he apologized to her and, when she tried to explain to him that what he had done was, not only nothing to apologize for, but also, something she actually enjoyed, he had put up his hand, to silence her. He had insisted that she was a lady, a priceless treasure, and he wanted nothing more than to show her how precious she was every single day. And, with that, she had seen the last of her sexual satisfaction.

Their marriage was in it’s earliest days and she hoped the physical part of it would improve with time. After all, they had been married less than a month. Aimable was a good man, a kind man. Though he had spent more than twice her years on this earth, his was the sweetest and most gentle soul she had ever encountered. His only care was for her happiness. 

She was very much aware that she might have died, had Aimable not found her and taken her to a hospital. No one else had never even noticed that she was missing and, if they had, they didn’t care enough to check on her. Only Aimable did that. She was grateful to him for that, as well as his love and his devotion and she planned on showing him how much so every day for the rest of her life... but sometimes she wondered about Paul. Did he think about her? Did he miss her? How would he react if they were to see each other again? Would her heart start pounding the way it did every-

“I don’t say these things to hurt you, Genie,” her mother stated, suddenly. “One day you’re going to have a daughter and you are going to love that little girl more than anything else in the world. Nothing will matter more than her happiness. But, sometimes, making sure someone is happy in the end is brought about by causing them pain in the beginning. This is not right for you-”

“You’re wrong, Mama,” Geneviève countered. “I can be a good wife to him... I love Aimable. He’s good to me and I’m going to be good to him back... I’m tired of men who use me and then toss me aside when they’re finished. I want to spend my life with one who will never hurt me again and, if I have to give up some things in order to have a such a husband, that’s what I’m going to have to do. I would _never_ hurt him.”


	2. Chapter 2

Epilogue

“Aimable…?” Geneviève called, as she entered the front door of the bakery.

“I’m here, my darling!”

His reaction to her return was that of a giddy child. Grinning from ear to ear, her husband raced through the door that lead to the front of the bakery to the preparation room… well, as much a man of his and stature could race. He was at least a foot taller than her and more than twice as wide, a man that might be imposing, if not for his amiable nature. 

Geneviève smiled up at him, as he enveloped her in his arms and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She touched his face, when he pulled back.

“How was your visit with your mother?” he asked, as he helped her out of her coat. “Did she have a nice trip?”

“The visit was very nice and her trip was wonderful. I think she was sad to leave my aunt.”

“What did she think about you getting married?” he asked.

She could tell he was trying to sound nonchalant, but that he was actually quite nervous. 

“She is very happy for us and wants us to come over for dinner on Saturday, so that she can get to know you better.”

A look of relief crossed his face.

“Oh, that’s very nice of her! What should we bring? I can make the bread for dinner and maybe dessert… Does she like cake or pastry better? What is her favorite flavor? Does sh-”

“Aimable...” she laid a hand on his arm. “We have _four_ days. You don’t have to worry about it this second.”

He smiled, sheepishly.

“You’re right. My darling is _always_ right!” he grinned, kissing her on the cheek.

A sudden meow filled the room, as their cat jumped onto the counter. Geneviève immediately bent to give her a cuddle.

“I think Pom Pom missed her mama... I did, too, truth be told.”

Geneviève smiled at him.

“Well, I’m back now… I’m going to run upstairs, to put my bag away, and then I’ll come down to work the counter, so you can have your nap.”

“We could close up for a few hours and you could join me for… _my nap_ ,” he said, shyly.

“What about the customers?” she asked. “They’ll be banging on the door, wondering why we’re closed.”

“As usual, my Geneviève is right. Maybe _another_ time…?” he asked, hopefully.

“Of course,” she agreed. “Come on, Pom Pom, let’s go upstairs...”

She gave him a warm smile and headed toward the back staircase, which led to their apartment.

“Geneviève…”

She turned to look at him.

“I saw an advertisement for a bakery that’s for sale in one of provinces. It’s the only bakery in the village, so it would be profitable, and, besides that, it comes with a house. We could own our own house… You’ve been saying that you’d like to move out of the city...”

“You’re right, I did say that.”

“Maybe we could talk about it later…?”

She nodded, in agreement.

“Yes, let’s talk about it. I think a change of scenery would be… _beneficial_.”

Geneviève gave him another smile, before she turned around.

“Geneviève…”

Again, she turned to look at him. He was holding his hand out to her and she instantly took it.

“I love you.”

“I know you do, Aimable,” she said, patiently.

He gave Geneviève one more kiss before she left the room and began climbing the stairs, to their apartment.

The bakery in the provinces sounded promising, she thought. Moving away was probably exactly what she needed, to make her life fall into place. In a village, she could focus on Aimable and their life together. There would be no memories to confront her, no distractions and no… _temptations_. 

Yes, it was exactly what she needed.


End file.
